


Midnight Delivery

by mendelssohnslieder



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: (on fire) (ha), Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, M/M, Phan - Freeform, dan is not, phil is a youtuber, they both need to stop feeling bad about themselves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 18:29:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11903655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mendelssohnslieder/pseuds/mendelssohnslieder
Summary: Dan works at a pizza place. Phil places an order on a dare.





	Midnight Delivery

**Author's Note:**

> changed the rating bc there are like 3 uncensored swearwords here

“You have to do it.”

“I won’t!”

“That’s the entire point of this game, mate. You chose dare; you have to do it.”

Phil Lester gave his two friends an _are-you-kidding-me_ look for probably the dozenth time of the night, yet it did nothing to the big grin they had on their faces. If anything, Louise looked even more giddy as she moved to sit in front of his computer and started to type in the URL.

“Louise!” PJ protested her from his place on the floor, laughing between words as Phil still sent him a thundering look. “You’re ruining the fun! Let him do it him—”

“I’m _not_ ordering pizza five minutes before they close, Peej. It’s rude.” Phil tried to put as much authority in his voice as he could muster, but that worked better in his head. Maybe he could try to plea instead; glaring never seemed to be his forte.

“Come on, Phil, it’s not five minutes before closing time. It’s—” PJ checked the watch around his wrist, but judging from how much he drank Phil doubted he could even tell the hour. “—thirty minutes. At least.” He looked back up in an extremely confident way and nodded vigorously.

Phil sighed and turned to Louise, who had stopped typing and now trying hard not to laugh at PJ. He cocked an eyebrow, asking her without words: _Are you serious?_

Louise’s eyes softened as she returned Phil’s gaze and vacanted the computer chair.

“Let’s go, Philly,” she sing-songed as she practically dragged the tall guy to his chair. “It will be fun. And PJ is right, there are still thirty minutes to closing time. It’s unlikely that they’re already tidying up the place by now.”

Phil whined as he looked at his new tab page, and looked up to meet Louise’s one last time with defeat in his eyes. “And the order?”

Louise practically chirped the reply. “The chefs will be happy it’s such a simple order.”

She went to sit next to PJ on the floor as Phil squinted his eyes at the address bar and began to type the URL. “We’ll have to tip him so well.” He muttered, not so discreetly that giggles immediately broke out behind him.

The page took a long time to load—seriously, what’s up with Manchester WiFi at this hour? It’s supposed to be heavenly—but he was finally facing the dreaded pizza delivery page and clicked the order button.

“Do you need any help, Lester?” PJ shouted from the floor needlessly loudly. “Do you remember the pizza toppings clearly?”

“I’m just as knowledgeable at memes as you are, Liguori,” Phil shouted back over his shoulder, wincing as he realized he must have had caused another annoying disruption to his neighbours. The walls were incredibly thin at this place.

Which brought him to the topic of the pizza order. It was a fun idea, really, he even had to admit to himself that he was intrigued how the event would play out. But it was _never_ in his interest to prank strangers, especially tired, overworked chefs thirty minutes before closing time. His own awkwardness usually already was an inconvenience to some people, he didn’t want to add to their misery by purposefully ruining their night with some mindless joke he and his friends shared.

Besides what’s up with their truth or dare always playing out like this anyway? Instead of being chock full of crude humor and sexual innuendos like how normal people their age would play it, they always ended up having some childish jokes and memes worthy of middle schoolers.

Shaking his head, Phil finally steeled himself and clicked the choice of toppings:

None of everything with beef on the left side.

No, really.

He would be served the same plain baked dough with oblong beef chunks tossed around just like in the original meme if he was lucky, he thought grimly. And probably a note with ‘fuck you’ written on it personally by the chef. Charming.

“Are you done?” PJ asked from behind him as Phil typed the address of his flat and punched the order button, fully expecting the worst to happen. There was no turning back now. He would probably be blacklisted by the only pizza place nearby for life.

He turned in his chair to face them and crossed his arms. “You both are eating it with me.”

Louise and PJ burst out laughing as Phil joined them at the floor again. “And no additional topping from my kitchen. No ketchup, no cheese, nothing.”

“Like you actually have cheese in your fridge, love,” Louise said fondly and clapped her hands excitedly. “Alright then! Onto the next round.”

Phil let the corners of his lip turn up as he picked up the glasses he put down a few rounds ago and put them back on. Much better. He even wondered why he didn’t put them back on before he ordered; but given the nature of the meme, it was unlikely that he could click the wrong toppings. Unless he mistakenly clicked bacon instead of beef, which wouldn’t be so much of a disaster, just that it would’ve had lost the authenticity of the meme.

They were well into five new rounds—Louise and Phil, that is, as PJ fell asleep right one round ago—when there was a knock on the door. Louise perked up at the sound and whispered, “It’s the pizza, isn’t it?”

PJ didn’t stir from his position on the floor, just mumbled something intelligible and continued to sleep. His eyes had been droopy from at least an hour ago, plus the alcohol intake; he was probably tired from working on his project all day today. And Louise couldn’t get him back home, so clearly he would stay the night. Phil thought about waking him up to sleep on the sofa, but eh, probably a sore back from a night spent sleeping on not-so-fluffy carpet would serve him right for coming up with the idea of giving the pizza chef hell.

Phil checked the clock. “Yep, there he is,” he stood up and reached for his wallet, “If I don’t come back, probably he’s angry enough to turn me into a pizza. My pizza monster-slash-ghost will then haunt you both to your graves.”

Louise’s laugh echoed in the lounge as he left it to answer the door. The knock repeated, but not impatient; a casual nod like any other. Also a good sign as any.

“Yes, hold on!” Phil shouted to the door as he half-jogged and turned the lock. Before he opened the door he remembered to school his face to the most guilty expression he could muster and practice apology words in his head— _sorry, it was a joke, I know it’s annoying, my friends and I are total jerks, we’re really sorry to cause you and the chef trouble, really really sorry, here, give this tip to the chef for his trouble as well. Tell him what he did is much appreciated, and we’ll never do something like this again._

But any attempt at preparing himself mentally for getting complaints or at least stern looks went out the window as he actually opened the door and looked at the man standing in front of it.

Instead of a scowl and eyebags and a variety of colourful curses that he 100% expected he'd get, he was greeted by a physical embodiment of sunshine.

 _Sunshine_.

Everyone always said ‘sunshine’ when they tried to describe him, but that must be because they never met this guy. It was nearing midnight—hell, it _was_ midnight, as far as he knew—but the young man standing in front of him in his black jacket and hat was radiating... sunshine and warmth and all the good in the world, it must have broken the law of physics at some point. The man’s lips pulled back into a grin, revealing a set of pearly teeth, and his eyes—the brown, chocolatey eyes that he just wanted to bask in for ages—crinkled as he did so. He had dimples; double dimples that went even deeper as he broke into an awkward chuckle.

Phil reminded himself to breathe. And maybe not to gape, to spare himself the very real possibility of looking like an idiot.

“Hi, so, uh,” the delivery guy looked down at the box of pizza in his hand, which Phil didn’t even notice until then.

 _Wait no don’t look down,_ Phil thought desperately as he searched his eyes, yet he couldn’t even find his voice. What was the perk they said about being a Youtuber again, the confidence and social skills that came naturally over time? Yeah, unlikely to come around anytime soon in this situation.

But his wish was soon granted, as the guy looked up again, though not as open as before—more awkward and embarrassed and shy that only managed to make his pulse beat a little bit faster.

“Did you order a pizza?” the guy asked, and Phil nodded, finally finding his voice again.

“Yes, the receipt should have ‘Phil Lester’ on it.” Calm and collected and unassuming. Nice.

The guy checked the receipt, but immediately broke into another grin. “None pizza with left beef?”

Phil nodded again, and it was then that the guy finally lost it—broke into a full-blown laughter, all pure joy that Phil couldn’t help but smile.

“Sorry—” he tried to contain himself to no avail, “—sorry, sorry—” his pale cheeks, almost paler than Phil’s own in the dim lights, flushed and not a moment later the rosy colour already spread to the tips of his ears. His laughter was the nicest Phil had ever heard in strangers—it was just pure and unrestrained and free, not at all faked, just high-pitched and pretty.

After a while the guy finally calmed down, even though he was still snickering to himself. The pizza box was dangerously balanced on his left palm, but Phil couldn’t care less even if all the beef fell down and rolled onto the pavement. He just wanted to witness more of that laugh. Probably for another few seconds. Ideally for another few decades.

“I just—uh,” the guy wiped a tear in the corner of his eyes, “I’ve been waiting for _so_ long for someone to put in this order, you have literally no idea. The place almost closed for the night and this had been a boring day but then your order arrived, so of course I took it as a personal challenge to create an exact replica of the picture and deliver it myself to your door, someone who actually ordered a _meme_.” the guy shook his head and snickered again, his eyes twinkling, the lights reflected on them made him look more like a fairy than a pizza delivery guy. No, _chef._ Phil’s brain seemed to be a bit slow to follow the current conversation as it was still stuck on the ethereal beauty this man possessed.

“Sorry again,” the chef glanced at the pizza box again and schooled his face to a more professional expression, “I’m taking your time. Sorry. This is your order—”

“Stop apologizing,” Phil said hurriedly before he lost the ability to speak again. At least his voice sounded normal and not at all like a smitten twelve-year-old. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

The guy’s expression soured for a moment at that, but it was so brief that Phil wondered if he was just imagining it. “It’s unprofessional. I’m probably behaving really unprofessionally right now, I don’t know how they usually do this stuff and—”

“Stop it,” Phil repeated, so sternly that the guy looked up to meet his eyes, “You’re doing really well. And smile again, would you? You have a pretty smile.”

Shit.

Leave it to him to flirt in the most obvious/cheesy/generic way possible.

But the compliment prompted rosy blushes to form once again on the guy’s cheeks and himself to be glancing down at his shoes in the most adorable way on earth, so that still counted as a win, Phil’s heart reminded him as it did a somersault in his chest.

“Um, thanks,” the chef mumbled before composing himself and motioned to the pizza box awkwardly. “So... your order.”

“Right.” Phil opened his wallet to pull out the amount of money he thankfully still remembered despite the short circuits his brain seemed to have in the past five minutes, and stole glances the chef’s way as he counted the pounds.

He fidgeted, Phil realized, his feet was tapping on the concrete. He was still looking down, which saddened Phil as the combination of that and the hat he wore made it even less possible to discern his expression. Him being the chef actually explained the jacket and hat—nowhere close to the pizza place uniform, but one that fitted his posture so well that Phil felt the need to call 911 because the existence of someone that good-looking must be against the law in some way.

 _Wow, way to be original at compliments, Phil,_ he grumbled to himself as he finally handed him the money.

The guy counted the money, then frowned and took a few pounds before Phil stopped him. “No, no, it’s the tip.”

“Oh, right,” the guy seemed surprised at this and put away the money before handing Phil the pizza box with the receipt on top of it. “Thanks. For, you know, the tip. And, um, the meme.”

Phil smiled as he reached out to receive the box. “No problem. Sorry for your trouble.”

He scored another win as the guy grinned. “Are you kidding me? This is the most fun I've _ever_ had. Every other chef was dumbfounded and someone even considered to call you to complain, God bless old people and their lack of knowledge about memes.”

“Well, none pizza with left beef sure is a good start for them to enter the world of memes,” Phil said, now acutely aware that the business transaction was over and there was no reason to keep the other human being around any longer. He looked at the receipt on top of his pizza box and, blaming the fact that it was midnight, threw caution to the wind.

“Keep it,” Phil said as he handed back the receipt.

The guy looked at the receipt, then back at him, puzzled. “Uh, why?”

“It has my number in it, and I’m specialized in daily dose of wholesome memes.”

The guy's eyes widened, and there it was again; the familiar blush that made Phil clutch the box in his hands for fear of dropping them in favor of poking the adorable cheeks. “Oh.”

Phil looked at him over the pizza box as the guy seemed not sure how to respond, thinking maybe he had blown up his chance again _._ He really needed to ask Louise for flirting tips the second he headed back upstairs. But for now—just please let the chef accept his awful attempt at this. Please please please please _please—_

The guy suddenly coughed out a, “I’m more of a dank meme type of person. But. Sure.” and snatched the bill from Phil’s fingers. He would say that there were sparks on the spot where their skin grazed each other’s but it would be too clichéd, even for him.

“So... I’ll get going.” The guy looked at him from under his eyelashes, “Enjoy your none pizza with left beef.” He waved with the hand that still had Phil’s number in it, and left the place for real.

“Phil?”

Phil jumped at the voice of Louise from across the hall, and came back into the flat before locking the door back up. He walked to the lounge in much lighter steps than before, and the joy must be reflected on his face as Louise raised her brows questioningly as he sat down and put down the pizza box between them on the floor.

“You took fifteen minutes back there. I’d assume the delivery guy gave you hell for that order and I’d apologize profusely in your behalf, but you look more like my eighteen-year-old self getting asked to prom.”

Phil laughed at the accuracy of her statement and opened the box to reveal the glorious content of it.

They both took one look at it and immediately burst out laughing, startling PJ awake.

The pizza chef didn’t lie when he said he made an exact replica; even the placement of the beef chunks closely resembled that of the original picture. Phil wondered how he managed to do it when he had to balance the box all the way from the pizza place to his flat.

“It’s a total lookalike!” Louise exclaimed, already reaching for her phone to take a picture.

“Yeah, he said he appreciated memes,” Phil shook his head fondly at the pizza, but his attention was soon diverted by his own phone vibrating on the sofa. He stood up and walked towards it in what he hoped a totally nonchalant way as Louise snapped a few pictures of the pizza.

There was a text from an unknown number, and Phil’s heart immediately did a somersault again.

 

_should probs remind u that my cooking skill is shit idk why they hire me_

 

Before he could type an answer, another text already came in his way.

  

_this is dan the dank meme guy btw_

 

The smile he had plastered on his face was so mushy he was glad he was facing the opposite direction as Louise and PJ, who, judging from the noise, had fully woken up and was admiring the pizza as well.

Phil took a deep breath, wondering what response sound witty and natural and interesting.

“Phil, aren’t you joining us? This is a work of art!” PJ said behind him, still laughing.

“Yeah, hold on,” Phil’s fingers hovered over the keyboard a few more seconds before deciding that, fuck it, he was well too smitten to be smooth anyway. And he had a feeling this wouldn’t be one of those typical attempt at befriending or dating someone really, no matter how much he sucked at that. No, this would be much more fun than that.

 

_Hi Dan, I’m Phil :)_

 

The time they were going to have would be much more fun than that.

**Author's Note:**

> why is the first work i published in this fandom has to be meme-related oh god  
> also this wasn't betaed nor britpicked so i hope there are not too many mistakes excuse me i am but a mere youngling in the fandom i hope y'all enjoy this xxxxx


End file.
